ooHectKjn of Native North American Indian Books,
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OLD INDIAN LEGENDS
Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2017
%
https://archive.org/details/oldindianlegends01zitk
This was a sign of gratitude used when words failed to interpret
strong emotion
(See page 89)
is
OLD INDIAN LEGENDS
RETOLD BY
ZITKALA-SA
r
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
BY
ANGEL DE CORA
(Hinook • Mahiwi • Kilinaka)
j
i
Boston, U.S.A., and London
GINN & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
C|)e athenaeum press
1902
Entered at Stationers’ Hall
Copyright, 1901
By GINN & COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
PREFACE
These legends are relics of our country’s
once virgin soil. These and many others are
the tales the little black-haired aborigine loved
so much to hear beside the night fire.
For him the personified elements and other
spirits played in a vast world right around the
center fire of the wigwam.
Iktomi, the snare weaver, Iya, the Eater,
and Old Double-Face are not wholly fanciful
creatures.
There were other worlds of legendary folk
for the young aborigine, such as “ The Star-
Men of the Sky,” “ The Thunder Birds Blink-
ing Zigzag Lightning,” and “ The Mysterious
Spirits of Trees and Flowers.”
Under an open sky, nestling close to the
earth, the old Dakota story-tellers have told me
these legends. In both Dakotas, North and
South, I have often listened to the same story
told over again by a new story-teller.
While I recognized such a legend without the
least difficulty, I found the renderings varying
Preface
much in little incidents. Generally one helped
the other in restoring some lost link in the
original character of the tale. And now I have
tried to transplant the native spirit of these
tales — root and all — into the English lan-
guage, since America in the last few centuries
has acquired a second tongue.
The old legends of America belong quite as
much to the blue-eyed little patriot as to the
black-haired aborigine. And when they are
grown tall like the wise grown-ups may they
not lack interest in a further study of Indian
folklore, a study which so strongly suggests our
near kinship with the rest of humanity and
points a steady finger toward the great brother-
hood of mankind, and by which one is so forci-
bly impressed with the possible earnestness of
life as seen through the teepee door ! If it be
true that much lies “in the eye of the beholder,”
then in the American aborigine as in any other
race, sincerity of belief, though it were based
upon mere optical illusion, demands a little
respect.
After all he seems at heart much like other
peoples.
ZITKALA-SA.
vi
CONTENTS
PAGE
Iktomi and the Ducks 1
Iktomi’s Blanket 17
Iktomi and the Muskrat 25
Iktomi and the Coyote 35
Iktomi and the Fawn 45
The Badger and the Bear 59
The Tree-Bound 75
Shooting of the Red Eagle 91
Iktomi and the Turtle 101
Dance in a Buffalo Skull Ill
The Toad and the Boy 117
Iya, the Camp-Eater 129
Manstin, the Rabbit 143
The Warlike Seven 157
Vll
ILLUSTRATIONS
This was a Sign of Gratitude used when Words failed
to interpret Strong Emotion — Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
He sniffed impatiently the Savory Odors ... 12
“Great-Grandfather, give me Meat to eat!” . 20
The Muskrat began to feel Awkward .... 28
A Shower of Red Coals upon Iktomi’s Bare
Arms and Shoulders 42
There among them stood Iktomi in Brown
Buckskins 54
Over a Bed of Coals she broiled the Venison 64
He placed the Arrow on the Bow 98
“My Friend, you are a Skilled Hunter” . . 104
Tiny Field Mice were singing and dancing . . 114
A Little Boy stopped his Play among the
Grasses 124
The Proud Chieftain rose with a Little Baby
in his Arms 134
I am going to the North Country on a Long Hunt 146
He blew the Water all over the People . . 162
\
$
IKTOMI AND THE DUCKS
i
OLD INDIAN LEGENDS
IKTOMI AND THE DUCKS
Iktomi is a spider fairy. He wears
brown deerskin leggins with long soft
fringes on either side, and tiny beaded
moccasins on his feet. His long black
hair is parted in the middle and wrapped
with red, red bands. Each round braid
hangs over a small brown ear and falls
forward over his shoulders.
He even paints his funny face with red
and yellow, and draws big black rings
around his eyes. He wears a deerskin
jacket, with bright colored beads sewed
tightly on it. Iktomi dresses like a real
Dakota brave. In truth, his paint and
3
Old Indian Legends
deerskins are the best part of him — if
ever dress is part of man or fairy.
Iktomi is a wily fellow. His hands are
always kept in mischief. He prefers to
spread a snare rather than to earn the
smallest thing with honest hunting. Why !
he laughs outright with wide open mouth
when some simple folk are caught in a
trap, sure and fast.
He never dreams another lives so bright
as he. Often his own conceit leads him
hard against the common sense of simpler
people.
Poor Iktomi cannot help being a little
imp. And so long as he is a naughty
fairy, he cannot find a single friend. No
one helps him when he is in trouble. No
one really loves him. Those who come to
admire his handsome beaded jacket and
long fringed leggins soon go away sick
and tired of his vain, vain words and
heartless laughter.
4
Iktomi and the Ducks
Thus Iktomi lives alone in a cone-shaped
wigwam upon the plain. One day he sat
hungry within his teepee. Suddenly he
rushed out, dragging after him his blanket.
Quickly spreading it on the ground, he
tore up dry tall grass with both his hands
and tossed it fast into the blanket.
Tying all the four corners together in
a knot, he threw the light bundle of grass
over his shoulder.
Snatching up a slender willow stick with
his free left hand, he started oh with a
hop and a leap. From side to side bounced
the bundle on his back, as he ran light-
footed over the uneven ground. Soon he
came to the edge of the great level land.
On the hilltop he paused for breath. With
wicked smacks of his dry parched lips, as
if tasting some tender meat, he looked
straight into space toward the marshy
river bottom. With a thin palm shading
his eyes from the western sun, he peered
5
Old Indian Legends
far away into the lowlands, munching
his own cheeks all the while. “Ah-ha!”
grunted he, satisfied with what he saw.
A group of wild ducks were dancing and
feasting in the marshes. With wings out-
spread, tip to tip, they moved up and down
in a large circle. Within the ring, around
a small drum, sat the chosen singers, nod-
ding their heads and blinking their eyes.
They sang in unison a merry dance-song,
and beat a lively tattoo on the drum.
Following a winding footpath near by,
came a bent figure of a Dakota brave.
He bore on his back a very large bundle.
With a willow cane he propped himself up
as he staggered along beneath his burden.
“Ho! who is there?” called out a
curious old duck, still bobbing up and
down in the circular dance.
Hereupon the drummers stretched their
necks till they strangled their song for a
look at the stranger passing by.
6
Iktomi and the Ducks
“ Ho, Iktomi ! Old fellow, pray tell us
what you carry in your blanket. Do not
hurry oh ! Stop ! halt ! ” urged one of the
singers.
“ Stop I stay ! Show us what is in your
blanket!"’ cried out other voices.
“My friends, I must not spoil your
dance. Oh, you would not care to see if
you only knew what is in my blanket.
Sing on ! dance on ! I must not show
you what I carry on my hack,” answered
Iktomi, nudging his own sides with his
elbows. This reply broke up the ring
entirely. Now all the ducks crowded
about Iktomi.
“We must see what you carry! We
must know what is in your blanket ! ” they
shouted in both his ears. Some even
brushed their wings against the mysteri-
ous bundle. Nudging himself again, wily
Iktomi said, “ My friends, ’t is only a pack
of songs I carry in my blanket.”
7
Old Indian Legends
“Ok ? then let us hear your songs ! ” cried
the curious ducks.
At length Iktomi consented to sing his
songs. With delight all the ducks flapped
their wings and cried together, u Hoye !
lioye ! ’ ’
Iktomi, with great care, laid down his
bundle on the ground.
“ I will build first a round straw house,
for I never sing my songs in the open air,”
said he.
Quickly he bent green willow sticks,
planting both ends of each pole into the
earth. These he covered thick with reeds
and grasses. Soon the straw hut was
ready. One by one the fat ducks waddled
in through a small opening, which was the
only entrance way. Beside the door Iktomi
stood smiling, as the ducks, eyeing his
bundle of songs, strutted into the hut.
In a strange low voice Iktomi began
his queer old tunes. All the ducks sat
8
Iktomi and the Ducks
round-eyed in a circle about the mysterious
singer. It was dim in that straw hut, for
Iktomi had not forgot to cover up the
small entrance way. All of a sudden his
song hurst into full voice. As the startled
ducks sat uneasily on the ground, Iktomi
changed his tune into a minor strain.
These were the words he sang :
“Istokmus wacipo, tuwayatunwanpi kin-
han ista nisasapi kta,” which is, “With eyes
closed you must dance. He who dares to
open his eyes, forever red eyes shall have.”
Up rose the circle of seated ducks and
holding their wings close against their sides
began to dance to the rhythm of Iktomi’ s
song and drum.
With eyes closed they did dance ! Iktomi
ceased to beat his drum. He began to sing
louder and faster. He seemed to be mov-
ing about in the center of the ring. No
duck dared blink a wink. Each one shut
his eyes very tight and danced even harder.
9
Old Indian Legends
Up and down ! Shifting to the right of
them they hopped round and round in that
blind dance. It was a difficult dance for
the curious folk.
At length one of the dancers could close
his eyes no longer ! It was a Skiska who
peeped the least tiny blink at Iktomi within
the center of the circle. “ Oh ! oh ! ”
squawked he in awful terror ! “ Run ! fly !
Iktomi is twisting your heads and breaking
your necks ! Run out and fly ! fly ! ” he
cried. Hereupon the ducks opened their
eyes. There beside Iktomi’ s bundle of songs
lay half of their crowd — flat on their backs.
Out they flew through the opening Skiska
had made as he rushed forth with his alarm.
But as they soared high into the blue sky
they cried to one another : “ Oh ! your eyes
are red-red!” “And yours are red-red!”
For the warning words of the magic minor
strain had proven true. “ Ah-ha ! ” laughed
Iktomi, untying the four corners of his
10
Iktomi and the Ducks
blanket, “ I shall sit no more hungry within
my dwelling.” Homeward he trudged along
with nice fat ducks in his blanket. He left
the little straw hut for the rains and winds
to pull down.
Having reached his own teepee on the
high level lands, Iktomi kindled a large fire
out of doors. He planted sharp-pointed
sticks around the leaping flames. On each
stake he fastened a duck to roast. A few
he buried under the ashes to bake. Disap-
pearing within his teepee, he came out again
with some huge seashells. These were his
dishes. Placing one under each roasting
duck, he muttered, “The sweet fat oozing
out will taste well with the hard-cooked
breasts.”
Heaping more willows upon the fire,
Iktomi sat down on thd ground with crossed
shins. A long chin between his knees
pointed toward the red flames, while his
eyes were on the browning ducks.
11
Old Indian Legends
Just above liis ankles be clasped and
unclasped bis long bony fingers. Now and
tlien be sniffed impatiently tbe savory odor.
Tbe brisk wind wliicli stirred tbe fire
also played witb a squeaky old tree beside
Iktomi’s wigwam.
From side to side tbe tree was swaying
and crying in an old man’s voice, “Help!
I’ll break! I’ll fall!” Iktomi shrugged
bis great shoulders, but did not once take
bis eyes from the ducks. Tbe dripping of
amber oil into pearly dishes, drop by drop,
pleased bis hungry eyes. Still the old tree
man called for help. “ He ! What sound
is it that makes my ear ache!” exclaimed
Iktomi, bolding a band on bis ear.
He rose and looked around. Tbe squeak-
ing came from tbe tree. Then be began
clbnbing tbe tree t<3 find tbe disagreeable
sound. He placed bis foot right on a
cracked lnnb without seeing it. Just then
a whiff of wind came rushing by and
12
He sniffed impatiently the savory odor
I
*
■ V
Iktomi and the Ducks
pressed together the broken edges. There
in a strong wooden hand Iktomi’ s foot
was caught.
“Oh! my foot is crushed!” he howled
like a coward. In vain he pulled and
puffed to free himself.
While sitting a prisoner on the tree he
spied, through his tears, a pack of gray
wolves roaming over the level lands. Wav-
ing his hands toward them, he called in his
loudest voice, “ He ! Gray wolves ! Don’t
you come here ! I ’m caught fast in the
tree so that my duck feast is getting cold.
Don’t you come to eat up my meal.”
The leader of the pack upon hearing
Iktomi’s words turned to his comrades and
said :
“Ah! hear the foolish fellow! He says
he has a duck feast to be eaten ! Let us
hurry there for our share ! ” Away bounded
the wolves toward Iktomi’s lodge.
From the tree Iktomi watched the hungry
13
Old Indian Legends
wolves eat lip his nicely browned fat ducks.
His foot pained him more and more. He
heard them crack the small round bones
with their strong long teeth and eat out
the oily marrow. Now severe pains shot
up from his foot through his whole body.
“Hin-hin-liin ! ” sobbed Iktomi. Real tears
washed brown streaks across his red-painted
cheeks. Smacking their bps, the wolves
began to leave the place, when Iktomi cried
out like a pouting child, “ At least you have
left my baking under the ashes !”
“Ho! po!” shouted the mischievous
wolves; “he says more ducks are to be
found under the ashes ! Come ! Let us
have our fill this once!”
Running hack to the dead fire, they
pawed out the ducks with such rude haste
that a cloud of ashes rose like gray smoke
over them.
“Hin-hin-hin !” moaned Iktomi, when
the wolves had scampered off. All too late,
14
Iktomi and the Ducks
the sturdy breeze returned, and, passing by,
pulled apart the broken edges of the tree.
Iktomi was released. But alas ! be bad no
duck feast.
15
i
IKTOMI’S BLANKET
17
*
IKTOMI’S BLANKET
Alone within his teepee sat Iktomi.
The sun was but a hand’s-breadth from
the western edge of land.
“ Those bad, bad gray wolves ! They ate
up all my nice fat ducks!” muttered he,
rocking his body to and fro.
He was cuddling the evil memory he bore
those hungry wolves. At last he ceased
to sway his body backward and forward,
but sat still and stiff as a stone image.
“ Oh ! I ’ll go to Inyan, the great-grand-
father, and pray for food!” he exclaimed.
At once he hurried forth from his teepee
and, with his blanket over one shoulder,
drew nigh to a huge rock on a hillside.
With half-crouching, half-running strides,
he fell upon Inyan with outspread hands.
19
Old Indian Legends
“ Grandfather ! pity me. I am hungry.
I am starving. Give me food. Great-grand-
father, give me meat to eat !” he cried. All
the while he stroked and caressed the face
of the great stone god.
The all-powerful Great Spirit, who makes
the trees and grass, can hear the voice of
those who pray in many varied ways. The
hearing of Inyan, the large hard stone, was
the one most sought after. He was the
great-grandfather, for he had sat upon the
hillside many, many seasons. He had seen
the prairie put on a snow-white blanket and
then change it for a bright green robe more
than a thousand times.
Still unaffected by the myriad moons he
rested on the everlasting hill, listening to
the prayers of Indian warriors. Before the
finding of the magic arrow he had sat
there.
Now, as Iktomi prayed and wept before
the great-grandfather, the sky in the
20
1 *
.
t.'
*
•. -V
is
Iktomi' s Blanket
west was red like a glowing face. The
sunset poured a soft mellow light upon
the huge gray stone and the solitary figure
beside it. It was the smile of the Great
Spirit upon the grandfather and the way-
ward child.
The prayer was heard. Iktomi knew it.
“Now, grandfather, accept my offering;
’t is all I have,” said Iktomi as he spread
his half-worn blanket upon Inyan’s cold
shoulders. Then Iktomi, happy with the
smile of the sunset sky, followed a foot-
path leading toward a thicketed ravine.
He had not gone many paces into the
shrubbery when before him lay a freshly
wounded deer !
“This is the answer from the red western
sky!” cried Iktomi with hands uplifted.
Slipping a long thin blade from out his
belt, he cut large chunks of choice meat.
Sharpening some willow sticks, he planted
them around a wood-pile he had ready to
21
Old Indian Legends
kindle. On these stakes he meant to roast
the venison.
While he was rubbing briskly two long
sticks to start a fire, the sun in the west
fell out of the sky below the edge of land.
Twilight was over all. Iktomi felt the cold
night air upon his bare neck and shoulders.
“ Ough ! ” he shivered as he wiped his knife
on the grass. Tucking it in a beaded case
hanging from his belt, Iktomi stood erect,
looking about. He shivered again. “ Ough !
Ah ! I am cold. I wish I had my blanket ! ”
whispered he, hovering over the pile of dry
sticks and the sharp stakes round about it.
Suddenly he paused and dropped his hands
at his sides.
“ The old great-grandfather does not fee]
the cold as I do. He does not need my old
blanket as I do. I wish I had not given it
to him. Oh ! I think I ’ll run up there
and take it back!” said he, pointing his
long chin toward the large gray stone.
22
Iktomi' s Blanket
Iktomi, in the warm sunshine, had no
need of his blanket, and it had been very
easy to part with a thing which he could
not miss. But the chilly night wind quite
froze his ardent thank-offering.
Thus running up the hillside, his teeth
chattering all the way, he drew near to
Inyan, the sacred symbol. Seizing one cor-
ner of the half-worn blanket, Iktomi pulled
it off with a jerk.
“ Give my blanket back, old grandfather !
You do not need it. I do ! ” This was very
wrong, yet Iktomi did it, for his wit was not
wisdom. Drawing the blanket tight over
his shoulders, he descended the hill with
hurrying feet.
\
He was soon upon the edge of the ravine.
A young moon, like a bright bent bow,
climbed up from the southwest horizon a
little way into the sky.
In this pale light Iktomi stood motion-
less as a ghost amid the thicket. His wood-
23
Old Indian Legends
pile was not yet kindled. His pointed stakes
were still bare as be bad left them. But
where was tbe deer — the venison be bad
felt warm in bis bands a moment ago? It
was gone. Only tbe dry rib bones lay on
tbe ground like giant fingers from an open
grave. Iktomi was troubled. At length,
stooping over tbe white dried bones, be took
hold of one and shook it. Tbe bones, loose
in their sockets, rattled together at his
touch. Iktomi let go his bold. He sprang
back amazed. And though he wore a
blanket his teeth chattered more than ever.
Then his blunted sense will surprise you, lit-
tle reader ; for instead of being grieved that
he had taken back his blanket, he cried
aloud, “Hin-hin-hin ! If only I had eaten
the venison before going for my blanket!”
Those tears no longer moved the hand
of the Generous Giver. They were selfish
tears. The Great Spirit does not heed
them ever.
24
IKTOMI AND THE MUSKRAT
25
IKTOMI AND THE MUSKRAT
Beside a white lake, beneath a large
grown willow tree, sat Iktomi on the bare
ground. The heap of smouldering ashes
told of a recent open fire. With ankles
crossed together around a pot of soup,
Iktomi bent over some delicious boiled fish.
Fast he dipped his black horn spoon into
the soup, for he was ravenous. Iktomi had
no regular meal times. Often when he was
hungry he went without food.
Well hid between the lake and the wild
rice, he looked nowhere save into the pot
of fish. Not knowing when the next meal
would be, he meant to eat enough now to
last some time.
“How, how, my friend!” said a voice
out of the wild rice. Iktomi started. He
27
Old Indian Legends
almost choked with his soup. He peered
through the long reeds from where he sat
with his long horn spoon in mid-air.
“ How, my friend ! ” said the voice again,
this time close at his side. Iktomi turned
and there stood a dripping muskrat who
had just come out of the lake.
“Oh, it is my friend who startled me.
I wondered if among the wild rice some
spirit voice was talking. How, how, my
friend ! ” said Iktomi. The muskrat stood
smiling. On Iris lips hung a ready “ Yes,
my friend,” when Iktomi would ask, “ My
friend, will you sit down beside me and
share my food?”
That was the custom of the plains people.
Yet Iktomi sat silent. He hummed an old
dance-song and beat gently on the edge of
the pot with his buffalo-horn spoon. The
muskrat began to feel awkward before such
lack of hospitality and wished himself under
water.
28
- V.
The muskrat began to feel awkward
Iktomi and the Muskrat
After many heart throbs Iktomi stopped
drumming with his horn ladle, and looking
upward into the muskrat’s face, he said :
“ My friend, let us run a race to see who
shall win this pot of fish. If I win, I shall
not need to share it with you. If you win,
you shall have half of it.” Springing to
his feet, Iktomi began at once to tighten
the belt about his waist.
66 My friend Ikto, I cannot run a race
with you ! I am not a swift runner, and
you are nimble as a deer. We shall not
run any race together,” answered the hun-
gry muskrat.
For a moment Iktomi stood with a hand
on his long protruding chin. His eyes were
fixed upon something in the air. The
muskrat looked out of the corners of his
eyes without moving his head. He watched
the wily Iktomi concocting a plot.
“Yes, yes,” said Iktomi, suddenly turn-
ing his gaze upon the unwelcome visitor;
29
Old Indian Legends
“ I shall carry a large stone on my back.
That will slacken my usual speed ; and the
race will be a fair one.”
Saying this he laid a firm hand upon the
muskrat’s shoulder and started off along
the edge of the lake. When they reached
the opposite side Iktomi pried about in
search of a heavy stone.
He found one half-buried in the shallow
water. Pulling it out upon dry land, he
wrapped it in his blanket.
“ Now, my friend, you shall run on the
left side of the lake, I on the other. The
race is for the boiled fish in yonder kettle ! ”
said Iktomi.
The muskrat helped to lift the heavy
stone upon Iktomi’ s back. Then they
parted. Each took a narrow path through
the tall reeds fringing the shore. Iktomi
found his load a heavy one. Perspiration
hung like beads on his brow. His chest
heaved hard and fast.
30
Iktomi and the Muskrat
He looked across the lake to see how far
the muskrat had gone, but nowhere did he
see any sign of him. “ Well, he is running
low under the wild rice ! ” said he. Yet as
he scanned the tall grasses on the lake
shore, he saw not one stir as if to make
way for the runner. “Ah, has he gone so
fast ahead that the disturbed grasses in
his trail have quieted again?” exclaimed
Iktomi. With that thought he quickly
dropped the heavy stone. “No more of
this ! ” said he, patting his chest with both
hands.
Oft* with a springing hound, he ran swiftly
toward the goal. Tufts of reeds and grass
fell flat under his feet. Hardly had they
raised their heads when Iktomi was many
paces gone.
Soon he reached the heap of cold ashes.
Iktomi halted stiff as if he had struck an
invisible cliff. His black eyes showed a
ring of wdiite about them as he stared at
31
Old Indian Legends
the empty ground. There was no pot of
boiled fish ! There was no water-man in
sight ! “ Oh, if only I had shared my food
like a real Dakota, I would not have lost
it all ! Why did I not know the muskrat
would run through the water? He swims
faster than I could ever run ! That is
what he has done. He has laughed at me
for carrying a weight on my back while he
shot hither like an arrow ! ’ ’
Crying thus to himself, Iktomi stepped
to the water s brink. He stooped forward
with a hand on each bent knee and peeped
far into the deep water.
“ There ! ” he exclaimed, “ I see you, my
friend, sitting with your ankles wound
around my little pot of fish ! My friend,
I am hungry. Give me a hone ! ”
“ Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” laughed the water-man,
the muskrat. The sound did not rise up
out of the lake, for it came down from
overhead. With Ins hands still on his
32
Iktomi and the Muskrat
knees, Iktomi turned his face upward into
the great willow tree. Opening wide his
mouth he begged, “ My friend, my friend,
give me a bone to gnaw!”
“ Ha ! ha ! ” laughed the muskrat, and
leaning over the limb he sat upon, he let
fall a small sharp bone which dropped right
into Iktomi’ s throat. Iktomi almost choked
to death before he could get it out. In the
tree the muskrat sat laughing loud. “ Next
time, say to a visiting friend, 4 Be seated
beside me, my friend. Let me share with
you my food.’ ”
33
IKTOMI AND THE COYOTE
35
IKTOMI AND THE COYOTE
Afar off upon a large level land, a sum-
mer sun was shining bright. Here and there
over the rolling green were tall bunches of
coarse gray weeds. Iktomi in his fringed
buckskins walked alone across the prairie
with a black bare head glossy in the sun-
light. He walked through the grass with-
out following any well-worn footpath.
From one large bunch of coarse weeds to
another he wound his way about the great
plain. He lifted his foot lightly and placed
it gently forward like a wildcat prowling
noiselessly through the thick grass. He
stopped a few steps away from a very large
bunch of wild sage. From shoulder to
shoulder he tilted his head. Still farther
he bent from side to side, first low over
Old Indian Legends
one hip and then over the other. Far for-
ward he stooped, stretching his long thin
neck like a duck, to see what lav under
a fur coat beyond the bunch of coarse
grass.
A sleek gray-faced prairie wolf ! his
pointed black nose tucked in between his
four feet drawn snugly together ; his hand-
some bushy tail wound over his nose and
feet ; a coyote fast asleep in the shadow of
a bunch of grass ! — this is what Iktomi
spied. Carefully he raised one foot and cau-
tiously reached out with his toes. Gently,
gently he lifted the foot behind and placed
it before the other. Thus he came nearer
and nearer to the round fur ball lying
motionless under the sage grass.
Now Iktomi stood beside it, looking at
the closed eyelids that did not quiver the
least bit. Pressing his bps into straight
lines and nodding his head slowly, he bent
over the wolf. He held his ear close to
38
Iktomi and the Coyote
the coyote’s nose, but not a breath of air
stirred from it.
“Dead !” said be at last. “Dead, but not
long since be ran over these plains ! See !
V
there in bis paw is caught a fresh feather.
He is nice fat meat ! ” Taking hold of the
paw with the bird feather fast on it, he
exclaimed, “Why, he is still warm! I’ll
carry him to my dwelling and have a roast
for my evening meal. Ah-ha !” he laughed,
as he seized the coyote by its two fore paws
and its two hind feet and swung him over
head across his shoulders. The wolf was
large and the teepee was far across the
prairie. Iktomi trudged along with his bur-
den, smacking his hungry lips together. He
blinked his eyes hard to keep out the salty
perspiration streaming down his face.
All the while the coyote on his back lay
gazing into the sky with wide open eyes.
His long white teeth fairly gleamed as he
smiled and smiled.
39
Old Indian Legends
u To ride on one’s own feet is tiresome,
but to be carried bke a warrior from a
brave fight is great fun ! ’ ’ said the coyote
in his heart. Tie had never been borne on
any one’s back before and the new experi-
ence delighted him. He lay there lazily on
Iktomi’s shoulders, now and then blinking
blue winks. Did you never see a birdie
blink a blue wink ? This is how it first
became a saying among the plains people.
When a bird stands aloof watching your
strange ways, a thin bluish white tissue
slips quickly over Iris eyes and as quickly
off again ; so quick that you think it was
only a mysterious blue wink. Sometimes
when children grow drowsy they blink blue
winks, while others who are too proud to
look with friendly eyes upon people blink
in this cold bird-manner.
The coyote was affected by both sleepi-
ness and pride. His winks were almost
as blue as the sky. In the midst of his
40
Iktomi and the Coyote
new pleasure the swaying motion ceased.
Iktomi had reached his dwelling place. The
coyote felt drowsy no longer, for in the next
instant he was slipping out of Iktomi’ s
hands. He was falling, falling through
space, and then he struck the ground with
such a bump he did not wish to breathe for
a while. He wondered what Iktomi would
do, thus he lay still where he fell. Hum-
ming a dance-song, one from his bundle of
mystery songs, Iktomi hopped and darted
about at an imaginary dance and feast.
He gathered dry willow sticks and broke
them in two against his knee. He built a
large fire out of doors. The flames leaped
up high in red and yellow streaks. Now
Iktomi returned to the coyote who had been
looking on through his eyelashes.
Taking him again by his paws and hind
feet, he swung him to and fro. Then as
the wolf swung toward the red flames,
Iktomi let him go. Once again the coyote
41
Old Indian Legends
fell through space. Hot air smote his nos-
trils. He saw red dancing fire, and now he
struck a bed of cracking embers. With a
quick turn he leaped out of the flames.
From his heels were scattered a shower of
red coals upon Iktomi’s bare arms and
shoulders. Dumfounded, Iktomi thought
he saw a spirit walk out of his fire. His
jaws fell apart. He thrust a palm to Ins
face, hard over his mouth ! He could scarce
keep from shrieking.
Rolling over and over on the grass and
rubbing the sides of his head against the
ground, the coyote soon put out the fire on
his fur. Iktomi’s eyes were almost ready
to jump out of his head as he stood cooling
a burn on his brown arm with his breath.
Sitting on his haunches, on the opposite
side of the fire from where Iktomi stood,
the coyote began to laugh at him.
“ Another day, my friend, do not take
too much for granted. Make sure the
42
«
A shower of red coals upon Iktomi’s bare arms and shoulders
0
Iktomi and the Coyote
enemy is stone dead before you make a
fire ! ”
Then off he ran so swiftly that his long
bushy tail hung out in a straight line with
his back.
43
IKTOMI AND THE FAWN
45
/
IKTOMI AND THE FAWN
In one of his wanderings through the
wooded lands, Iktomi saw a rare bird sit-
ting high in a tree-top. Its long fan-like
tail feathers had caught all the beautiful
colors of the rainbow. Handsome in the
glistening summer sun sat the bird of rain-
bow plumage. Iktomi hurried hither with
his eyes fast on the bird.
He stood beneath the tree looking long
and wistfully at the peacock’s bright feath-
ers. At length he heaved a sigh and
began : “ Oh, I wish I had such pretty
feathers ! How I wish I w r ere not I ! If
only I were a handsome feathered creature
how happy I would be ! I ’d be so glad to
sit upon a very high tree and bask in the
summer sun like you!” said he suddenly,
47
Old Indian Legends
pointing liis bony finger np toward the
peacock, who was eyeing the stranger below,
turning his head from side to side.
“ I beg of you make me into a bird with
green and purple feathers like yours ! ”
implored Iktomi, tired now of playing the
brave in beaded buckskins. The peacock
then spoke to Iktomi : “ I have a magic
power. My touch will change you in a
moment into the most beautiful peacock if
you can keep one condition.”
“Yes! yes!” shouted Iktomi, jumping
up and down, patting his lips with his
palm, which caused his voice to vibrate in
a peculiar fashion. “ Yes ! yes ! I could
keep ten conditions if only you would
change me into a bird with long, bright
tail feathers. Oh, I am so ugly ! I am so
tired of being myself ! Change me ! Do ! ”
Hereupon the peacock spread out both his
wings, and scarce moving them, he sailed
slowly down upon the ground. Right beside
48
Iktomi and the Fawn
Iktomi he alighted. Very low in Iktomi’ s
ear the peacock whispered, “ Are you willing
to keep one condition, though hard it be ? ”
“ Yes ! yes ! I ’ve told you ten of them
if need be ! ” exclaimed Iktomi, with some
impatience.
“ Then I pronounce you a handsome
feathered bird. No longer are you Iktomi
the mischief-maker.” Saying this the pea-
cock touched Iktomi with the tips of his
wings.
Iktomi vanished at the touch. There
stood beneath the tree two handsome pea-
cocks. While one of the pair strutted about
with a head turned aside as if dazzled by his
own bright-tinted tail feathers, the other
bird soared slowly upward. He sat quiet
and unconscious of his gay plumage. He
seemed content to perch there on a large
limb in the warm sunshine.
After a little while the vain peacock,
dizzy with his bright colors, spread out his
49
Old Indian Legends
wings and lit on the same branch with the
elder bird.
“Oh!” he exclaimed, “how hard to fly!
Brightly tinted feathers are handsome, but
I wish they were light enough to fly ! ”
Just there the elder bird interrupted him.
“That is the one condition. Never try to
fly like other birds. Upon the day you
try to fly you shall be changed into your
former self.”
“Oh, what a shame that bright feathers
cannot fly into the sky ! ” cried the peacock.
Already he grew restless. He longed to
soar through space. He yearned to fly
above the trees high upward to the sun.
“Oh, there I see a flock of birds flying
thither ! Oh ! oh ! ” said he, flapping his
wings, “ I must try my wings ! I am tired
of bright tail feathers. I want to try
my wings.”
“No, no ! ” clucked the elder bird. The
flock of chattering birds flew by with
50
Iktomi and the Fawn
whirring wings. “Oop ! bop ! ” called some
to their mates.
Possessed by an irrepressible impulse the
Iktomi peacock called out, “ He ! I want
to come ! Wait for me ! ” and with that he
gave a lunge into the air. The flock of
flying feathers wheeled about and lowered
over the tree whence came the peacock’s
cry. Only one rare bird sat on the tree,
and beneath, on the ground, stood a brave
in brown buckskins.
“I am my old self again!” groaned
Iktomi in a sad voice. “ Make me over,
pretty bird. Try me this once again ! ”
he pleaded in vain.
“Old Iktomi wants to fly! Ah! We
cannot wait for him ! ” sang the birds as
they flew away.
Muttering unhappy vows to himself, Ik-
tomi had not gone far when he chanced
upon a bunch of long slender arrows. One
by one they rose in the air and shot a
51
Old Indian Legends
straight line over the prairie. Others shot
up into the blue sky and were soon lost to
sight. Only one was left. He was mak-
ing ready for his flight when Iktomi rushed
upon him and wailed, a I want to be an
arrow ! Make me into an arrow ! I want
to pierce the blue Blue overhead. I want
to strike yonder summer sun in its center.
Make me into an arrow ! ”
“Can you keep a condition? One con-
dition, though hard it be?” the arrow
turned to ask.
“ Yes ! yes ! ” shouted Iktomi, delighted.
Hereupon the slender arrow tapped him
gently with his sharp flint beak. There
was no Iktomi, hut two arrows stood ready
to fly. “ Now, young arrow, this is the
one condition. Your flight must always
be in a straight line. Never turn a curve
nor jump about like a young fawn,” said
the arrow magician. He spoke slowly and
sternly.
52
Iktomi and the Fawn
At once lie set about to teach the new
arrow how to shoot in a long straight
line.
u This is the way to pierce the Blue over-
head/’ said he ; and oh he spun high into
the sky.
While he was gone a herd of deer came
trotting by. Behind them played the young
fawns together. They frolicked about like
kittens. They bounced on all fours like
balls. Then they pitched forward, kicking
their heels in the air. The Iktomi arrow
watched them so happy on the ground.
Looking quickly up into the sky, he said in
his heart, u The magician is out of sight.
I ’ll just romp and frolic with these fawns
until he returns. Fawns ! Friends, do
not fear me. I want to jump and leap
with you. I long to be happy as you are,”
said he. The young fawns stopped with
stiff legs and stared at the speaking arrow
with large brown wondering eyes. “ See !
53
Old Indian Legends
I can jump as well as you ! ” went on
Iktomi. He gave one tiny leap like a fawn.
All of a sudden the fawns snorted with
extended nostrils at what they beheld.
There among them stood Iktomi in brown
buckskins, and the strange talking arrow
was gone.
“Oh ! I am myself. My old self ! ” cried
Iktomi, pinching himself and plucking
imaginary pieces out of his jacket.
“ Hin-hin-hin ! I wanted to fly !
The real arrow now returned to the earth.
He alighted very near Iktomi. From the
high sky he had seen the fawns playing on
the green. He had seen Iktomi make his
one leap, and the charm was broken.
Iktomi became his former self.
“Arrow, my friend, change me once
more ! ” begged Iktomi.
“No, no more,” replied the arrow. Then
away he shot through the air in the direc-
tion his comrades had flown.
54
There among them stood Iktomi in brown buckskins
Iktomi and the Fawn
By this time the fawns gathered close
around Iktomi. They poked their noses
at him trying to know who he was.
Iktomi’ s tears were like a spring shower.
A new desire dried them quickly away.
Stepping boldly to the largest fawn, he
looked closely at the little brown spots all
over the furry face.
“ Oh, fawn ! What beautiful brown spots
on your face ! Fawn, dear little fawn, can
you tell me how those brown spots were
made on your face?”
“Yes,” said the fawn. “When I was
very, very small, my mother marked them
on my face with a red hot fire. She dug a
large hole in the ground and made a soft
bed of grass and twigs in it. Then she
placed me gently there. She covered me
over with dry sweet grass and piled dry
cedars on top. From a neighbor’s fire she
brought hither a red, red ember. This she
tucked carefully in at my head. This is
55
Old Indian Legends
how the brown spots were made on my
face.”
“ Now, fawn, my friend, will yon do the
same for me ? Won’t you mark my face
with brown, brown spots just like yours?”
asked Iktomi, always eager to be like other
people.
“ Yes. I can dig the ground and fill it
with dry grass and sticks. If }~ou will
jump into the pit, I ’ll cover you with
sweet smelling grass and cedar wood,”
answered the fawn.
“ Say,” interrupted Ikto, “ will you be
sure to cover me with a great deal of dry
grass and twigs ? You will make sure that
the spots will he as brown as those you
wear.”
“Oh, yes. I ’ll pile up grass and willows
once oftener than my mother did.”
“ Now let us dig the hole, pull the
grass, and gather sticks,” cried Iktomi in
glee.
56
Iktomi and the Fawn
Thus with his own hands he aids in
making his grave. After the hole was dug
and cushioned with grass, Iktomi, mut-
tering something about brown spots, leaped
down into it. Lengthwise, flat on his back,
he lay. While the fawn covered him over
with cedars, a far-away voice came up
through them, “ Brown, brown spots to
wear forever ! ” A red ember was tucked
under the dry grass. Off scampered the
fawns after their mothers ; and when a
great distance away they looked backward.
They saw a blue smoke rising, writhing
upward till it vanished in the blue ether.
“Is that Iktomi’s spirit?” asked one
fawn of another.
“ No ! I think he would jump out before
he could burn into smoke and cinders,”
answered his comrade.
57
THE BADGER AND THE BEAR
59
THE BADGER AND THE BEAR
On the edge of a forest there lived a
large family of badgers. In the ground
their dwelling was made. Its walls and
roof were covered with rocks and straw.
Old father badger was a great hunter.
He knew well how to track the deer and
buffalo. Every day he came home carry-
ing on his back some wild game. This
kept mother badger very busy, and the
baby badgers very chubby. While the well-
fed children played about, digging little
make-believe dwellings, their mother hung
thin sliced meats upon long willow racks.
As fast as the meats were dried and sea-
soned by sun and wind, she packed them
carefully away in a large thick bag.
This bag was like a huge stiff envelope,
but far more beautiful to see, for it was
61
Old Indian Legends
painted all over with many bright colors.
These firmly tied bags of dried meat were
laid upon the rocks in the walls of the
dwelling. In this way they were both
useful and decorative.
One day father badger did not go off for
a hunt. He stayed at home, making new
arrows. His children sat about him on the
ground floor. Their small black eyes danced
with delight as they watched the gay colors
painted upon the arrows.
All of a sudden there was heard a heavy
footfall near the entrance way. The oval-
shaped door-frame was pushed aside. In
stepped a large black foot with great big
claws. Then the other clumsy foot came
next. All the while the baby badgers stared
hard at the unexpected comer. After the
second foot, in peeped the head of a big
black hear ! His black nose was dry and
parched. Silently he entered the dwelling
and sat down on the ground by the doorway.
62
The Badger and the Bear
His black eyes never left the painted bags
on the rocky walls. He guessed what was
in them. He was a very hungry bear. See-
ing the racks of red meat hanging in the
yard, he had come to visit the badger family.
Though he was a stranger and his strong
paws and jaws frightened the small badgers,
the father said, “How, how, friend ! Your
lips and nose look feverish and hungry.
Will you eat with us ? ”
“Yes, my friend,” said the bear. “I am
starved. I saw your racks of red fresh meat,
and knowing your heart is kind, I came
hither. Give me meat to eat, my friend.”
Hereupon the mother badger took long
strides across the room, and as she had to
pass in front of the strange visitor, she
said : “Ah han ! Allow me to pass ! ” which
was an apology.
“How, how!” replied the bear, drawing
himself closer to the wall and crossing his
shins together.
63
Old Indian Legends
Mother badger chose the most tender red
meat, and soon over a bed of coals she
broiled the venison.
That day the bear had all he could eat.
At nightfall he rose, and smacking his lips
together, — that is the noisy way of saying
“the food was very good!” — he left the
badger dwelling. The baby badgers, peep-
ing through the door-flap after the shaggy
bear, saw him disappear into the woods
near by.
Day after day the crackling of twigs in
the forest told of heavy footsteps. Out'
would come the same black bear. He
never lifted the door-flap, but thrusting it
aside entered slowly in. Always in the
same place by the entrance way he sat
down with crossed shins.
His daily visits were so regular that
mother badger placed a fur rug in his
place. She did not wish a guest in her
dwelling to sit upon the bare hard ground.
64
Over a bed of coals she broiled the venison
V
The Badger and the Bear
At last one time when the bear returned, >
his nose was bright and black. His coat
was glossy. He had grown fat upon the
badger’s hospitality.
As he entered the dwelling a pair of
wicked gleams shot out of his shaggy head.
Surprised by the strange behavior of the
guest who remained standing upon the rug,
leaning his round back against the wall,
father badger queried: “How, my friend!
What ? ”
The bear took one stride forward and
shook his paw in the badger’s face. He
said : “ I am strong, very strong ! ”
“Yes, yes, so you are,” replied the bad-
ger. From the farther end of the room
mother badger muttered over her bead
work : “Yes, you grew strong from our
well-filled bowls.”
The bear smiled, showing a row of large
sharp teetb,
“ I have no dwelling. I have no bags of
65
Old Indian Legends
dried meat. I have no arrows. All these
I have found here on this spot,” said he,
stamping his heavy foot. “I want them !
See! I am strong!" repeated he, lifting
both his terrible paws.
Quietly the father badger spoke : “I fed
yon. I called von friend, though von came
here a stranger and a beggar. For the
sake of my little ones leave us in peace."
Mother badger, in her excited way, had
pierced hard through the buckskin and stuck
her fingers repeat edly with her sharp awl
until she had laid aside her work. Now,
while her husband was talking to the bear,
she motioned with her hands to the children.
On tiptoe they hastened to her side.
For reply came a low growl. It grew
louder and more fierce. “TTa-ough!" he
roared, and bv force hurled the badgers
out. First the father badger ; then the
mother. The little badgers he tossed by
pairs. He threw them hard upon the
66
The Badger and the Bear
ground. Standing in the entrance way
and showing his ugly teeth, he snarled,
“Be gone ! ”
The father and mother badger, having
gained their feet, picked up their kicking
little babes, and, wailing aloud, drew the
air into their flattened lungs till they could
stand alone upon their feet. No sooner had
the baby badgers caught their breath than
they howled and shrieked with pain and
fright. Ah ! what a dismal cry was theirs
as the whole badger family went forth wail-
ing from out their own dwelling ! A little
distance away from their stolen house the
father badger built a small round hut. He
made it of bent willows and covered it with
dry grass and twigs.
This was shelter for the night ; but alas !
it was empty of food and arrows. All day
father badger prowled through the forest,
but without his arrows he could not get
food for his children. Upon his return,
67
Old Indian Legends
the cry of the little ones for meat, the sad
quiet of the mother with bowed head, hurt,
him like a poisoned arrow wound.
“I ’ll beg; meat for you ! ” said he in an
O v
unsteady voice. Covering* his head and
o
entire body in a long* loose robe he halted
%J O
beside the big black bear. The hear was
slicing red meat to hang upon the rack.
He did not pause for a look at the comer.
As the badger stood there unrecognized, he
saw that the bear had brought with him
his whole family. Little cubs played under
the high-hanging new meats. They laughed
and pointed with their wee noses upward at
the thin sliced meats upon the poles.
“ Have you no heart, Black Bear ? My
children are starving. Give me a small
piece of meat for them,” begged the badger.
“ M r a-ough ! ” growled the angry hear, and
pounced upon the badger. “ Be gone ! ”
said he, and with his big hind foot he sent
father badger sprawling on the ground.
The Badger and the Bear
All the little ruffian hears hooted and
shouted “ ha-ha!” to see the beggar fall
upon his face. There was one, however, who
did not even smile. He was the youngest
cub. His fur coat was not as black and
glossy as those his elders wore. The hair
was dry and dingy. It looked much more
like kinky wool. He was the ugly cub. Poor
little baby hear ! he had always been laughed
at by his older brothers. He could not help
being himself. He could not change the dif-
ferences between himself and his brothers.
Thus again, though the rest laughed aloud
at the badger’s fall, he did not see the joke.
His face was long and earnest. In his heart
he was sad to see the badgers crying and
starving. In his breast spread a burning
desire to share his food with them.
“ I shall not ask my father for meat to
give away. He would say ‘ No ! ’ Then
my brothers would laugh at me,” said the
ugly baby bear to himself.
69
Old Indian Legends
In an instant, as if his good intention had
passed from him, he was singing happily
and skipping around his father at work.
Singing in his small high voice and drag-
ging his feet in long strides after him, as if
a prankish spirit oozed out from his heels,
he strayed off through the tall grass. He
wrns ambling toward the small round hut.
When directly in front of the entrance way,
he made a quick side kick with his left hind
leg. Lo ! there fell into the badger’s hut a
piece of fresh meat. It was tough meat,
full of sinews, yet it was the only piece he
could take without his father’s notice.
Thus having given meat to the hungry
badgers, the ugly baby bear ran quickly
away to his father again.
On the following day the father badger
O 1/ o
came back once more. He stood watching
the big bear cutting thin slices of meat.
“ Give — ” he began, when the bear turn-
ing upon him with a growl, thrust him
70
The Badger and the Bear
cruelly aside. The badger fell on his hands.
He fell where the grass was wet with the
blood of the newly carved buffalo. His
keen starving eyes caught sight of a little
red clot lying bright upon the green. Look-
ing fearfully toward the bear and seeing his
head was turned away, he snatched up the
small thick blood. Underneath his girdled
blanket he hid it in his hand.
On his return to his family, he said
within himself : “I ’ll pray the Great Spirit
to bless it.” Thus he built a small round
lodge. Sprinkling water upon the heated
heap of sacred stones within, he made ready
to purge his body. “ The buffalo blood,
too, must he purified before I ask a blessing
upon it,” thought the badger. He carried
it into the sacred vapor lodge. After plac-
ing it near the sacred stones, he sat down
beside it. After a long silence, he mut-
tered : “ Great Spirit, bless this little buffalo
blood.” Then he arose, and with a quiet
71
Old Indian Legends
dignity stepped out of the lodge. Close
behind him some one followed. The bad-
ger turned to look over his shoulder and to
his great joy he beheld a Dakota brave in
handsome buckskins. In his hand he car-
ried a magic arrow. Across his back
dangled a long fringed quiver. In answer
to the badger's prayer, the avenger had
sprung from out the red globules.
“ My son!" exclaimed the badger with
extended right hand.
“How, father,” replied the brave; “I
am your avenger ! ”
Immediately the badger told the sad
story of his hungry little ones and the
stingy bear.
Listening closely the young man stood
looking steadily upon the ground.
At length the father badger moved away.
“ Where ? " queried the avenger.
“ My son, we have no food. I am going
again to beg for meat,” answered the badger.
72
The Badger and the Bear
“ Then I go with yon/’ replied the young
brave. This made the old badger happy.
He was proud of his son. He was delighted
to be called “ father ” by the first human
creature.
The hear saw the badger .coming in the
distance. He narrowed his eyes at the tall
stranger walking beside him. He spied the
arrow. At once he guessed it was the
avenger of whom he had heard long, long
ago. As they approached, the bear stood
erect with a hand on his thigh. He smiled
upon them.
“ How, badger, my friend ! Here is my
knife. Cut your favorite pieces from the
deer,” said he, holding out a long thin
blade.
“How!” said the badger eagerly. He
wondered what had inspired the big bear
to such a generous deed. The young
avenger waited till the badger took the
long knife in his hand.
73
Old Indian Legends
Gazing full into the black bear’s face, be
said : “I come to do justice. You have
returned only a knife to my poor father.
Now return to him bis dwelling.” His
voice was deep and powerful. In bis black
eyes burned a steady fire.
The long strong teeth of the bear rattled
against each other, and bis shaggy body
shook with fear. “Ahow ! ” cried be, as if
be bad been shot. Running into the dwell-
ing be gasped, breathless and trembling,
“ Come out, all of you ! This is the bad-
ger’s dwelling. We must flee to the forest
for fear of the avenger who carries the
magic arrow.”
Out they hurried, all the bears, and
disappeared into the woods.
Singing and laughing, the badgers
returned to their own dwelling.
Then the avenger left them.
“I go,” said be in parting, “over the
earth.”
74
THE TREE-BOUND
75
THE TREE-BOUND
It was a clear summer day. The blue,
blue sky dropped low over the edge of the
green level land. A large yellow sun bung
directly overhead.
The singing of birds filled the summer
space between earth and sky with sweet
music. Again and again sang a yellow-
breasted birdie — “ Koda Ni Dakota ! ” He
insisted upon it. “ Koda Ni Dakota ! ”
which was “ Friend, you’re a Dakota!
Friend, you ’re a Dakota! ” Perchance the
birdie meant the avenger with the magic
arrow, for there across the plain he strode.
He was handsome in his paint and feathers,
proud with his great buckskin quiver on
his back and a long bow in his hand. Afar
to an eastern camp of cone-shaped teepees
he was going. There over the Indian
77
Old Indian Legends
village hovered a large red eagle threaten-
ing the safety of the people. Every morn-
ing rose this terrible red bird out of a high
chalk bluff and spreading out his gigantic
wings soared slowly over the round camp
ground. Then it was that the people,
terror-stricken, ran screaming into their
lodges. Covering their heads with their
blankets, they sat trembling with fear. No
one dared to venture out till the red eagle
had disappeared beyond the west, w T here
meet the blue and green.
In vain tried the chieftain of the tribe to
find among his warriors a powerful marks-
man who could send a death arrow to the
man-hungry bird. At last to urge his men
to their utmost skill he bade his crier pro-
claim a new reward.
Of the chieftain’s two beautiful daughters
he would have his choice who brought the
dreaded red eagle with an arrow in its
breast.
78
The Tree- Bound
Upon hearing these words, the men of
the village, both young and old, both heroes
and cowards, trimmed new arrows for the
contest. At gray dawn there stood indis-
tinct under the shadow of the bluff many
human figures ; silent as ghosts and wrapped
in robes girdled tight about their waists,
they waited with chosen bow and arrow.
Some cunning old warriors stayed not
with the group. They crouched low upon
the open ground. But all eyes alike
were fixed upon the top of the high bluff.
Breathless they watched for the soaring of
the red eagle.
From within the dwellings many eyes
peeped through the small holes in the front
lapels of the teepee. With shaking knees
and hard-set teeth, the women peered out
upon the Dakota men prowling about with
bows and arrows.
At length when the morning sun also
peeped over the eastern horizon at the
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Old Indian Legends
armed Dakotas, the red eagle walked out
upon the edge of the cliff. Pluming his
gorgeous feathers, he ruffled his neck and
flapped his strong wings together. Then
he dived into the air. Slowly he winged
his way over the round camp ground ;
over the men with their strong bows and
arrows ! In an instant the long bows were
bent. Strong straight arrows with red
feathered tips sped upward to the blue
sky. Ah ! slowly moved those indifferent
wings, untouched by the poison-beaked
arrows. Off to the west beyond the reach
of arrow, beyond the reach of eye, the red
eagle flew away.
A sudden clamor of high-pitched voices
broke the deadly stillness of the dawn.
The women talked excitedly about the
invulnerable red of the eagle’s feathers,
while the would-be heroes sulked within
their wigwams. “ He-he-he ! ” groaned the
chieftain.
80
The Tree-Bound
On the evening of the same day sat a
group of hunters around a bright burning
fire. They were talking of a strange young
man whom they spied while out upon a
hunt for deer beyond the bluffs. They saw
the stranger taking aim. Following the
point of his arrow with their eyes, they
beheld a herd of buffalo. The arrow sprang
from the bow ! It darted into the skull
of the foremost buffalo. But unlike other
arrows it pierced through the head of the
creature and spinning in the air lit into
the next buffalo head. One by one the
buffalo fell upon the sweet grass they were
grazing. With straight quivering limbs
they lay on their sides. The young man
stood calmly by, counting on his fingers
the buffalo as they dropped dead to the
ground. When the last one fell, he ran
thither and picking up his magic arrow
wiped it carefully on the soft grass. He
slipped it into his long fringed quiver.
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Old Indian Legends
“ He is going to make a feast for some
hungry tribe of men or beasts ! ” cried the
hunters among themselves as they hastened
away.
They were afraid of the stranger with
the sacred arrow. When the hunter’s tale
of the stranger’s arrow reached the ears of
the chieftain, his face brightened with a
smile. He sent forth fleet horsemen, to
learn of him his birth, his name, and his
deeds.
“If he is the avenger with the magic
arrow, sprung up from the earth out of a
clot of buffalo blood, bid him come hither.
Let him kill the red eagle with his magic
arrow. Let him win for himself one of
my beautiful daughters,” he had said to
his messengers, for the old story of the
badger’s man-son was known all over the
level lands.
After four days and nights the braves
returned. “ He is coming,” they said. “We
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The Tree-Bound
have seen him. He is straight and tall ;
handsome in face, with large black eyes.
He paints his round cheeks with bright red,
and wears the penciled lines of red over
his temples like our men of honored rank.
He carries on his hack a long fringed
quiver in which he keeps his magic arrow.
His bow is long and strong. He is coming
now to kill the big red eagle.” All around
the camp ground from mouth to ear passed
those words of the returned messengers.
Now it chanced that immortal Iktomi,
fully recovered from the brown burnt spots,
overheard the people talking. At once he
was filled with a new desire. “If only
I had the magic arrow, I would kill the
red eagle and win the chieftain’s daughter
for a wife,” said he in his heart.
Back to his lonely wigwam he hastened.
Beneath the tree in front of his teepee he
sat upon the ground with chin between his
drawn-up knees. His keen eyes scanned
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Old Indian Legends
the wide plain. He was watching for the
avenger.
“ ‘ He is coming ! ’ said the people,” mut-
tered old Iktomi. All of a sudden he
raised an open palm to his brow and
peered afar into the west. The summer
sun hung bright in the middle of a cloud-
less sky. There across the green prairie
was a man walking bareheaded toward
the east.
“ Ha ! ha ! ’ t is he ! the man with the
magic arrow!” laughed Iktomi. And when
the bird with the yellow breast sang loud
again — “ Koda Ni Dakota ! Friend,
you ’re a Dakota ! ” Iktomi put his hand
over his mouth as he threw his head far
backward, laughing at both the bird and
man.
“ He is your friend, but his arrow will
kill one of your kind ! He is a Dakota,
but soon he ’ll grow into the bark on this
tree ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” he laughed again.
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The Tree-Bound
The young avenger walked with swaying
strides nearer and nearer toward the lonely
wigwam and tree. Iktomi heard the swish !
swish! of the stranger’s feet through the
tall grass. He was passing now beyond the
tree, when Iktomi, springing to his feet,
called out : ee How, how, my friend ! I see
you are dressed in handsome deerskins and
have red paint on your cheeks. You are
going to some feast or dance, may I ask? ”
Seeing the young man only smiled Iktomi
went on : u I havp not had a mouthful of
food this day. Have pity on me, young
brave, and shoot yonder bird for me ! ”
With these words Iktomi pointed toward the
tree-top, where sat a bird on the highest
branch. The young avenger, always ready
to help those in distress, sent an arrow
upward and the bird fell. In the next branch
it was caught between the forked prongs.
“ My friend, climb the tree and get the
bird. I cannot climb so high. I would
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Old Indian Legends
get dizzy and fall,” pleaded Iktomi. The
avenger began to scale the tree, when
Iktomi cried to him : “ My friend, your
beaded buckskins may be torn by the
branches. Leave them safe upon the grass
till you are down again.”
xJ O
“ You are right,” replied the young man,
quickly slipping off his long fringed quiver.
Together with his dangling pouches and
tinkling ornaments, he placed it on the
ground. Now he climbed the tree unhin-
dered. Soon from the top he took the
bird. “ My friend, toss to me your arrow
that I may have the honor of wiping it
clean on soft deerskin ! ’ ’ exclaimed Iktomi.
“How!” said the brave, and threw the
bird and arrow to the ground.
At once Iktomi seized the arrow. Rub-
bing it first on the grass and then on a
piece of deerskin, he muttered indistinct
words all the while. The young man, step-
ping downward from limb to limb, hearing
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The Tree-Bound
the low muttering, said : “ Iktomi, I cannot
hear what you say ! ”
“Oh, my friend, I was only talking of
your big heart.”
Again stooping over the arrow Iktomi
continued his repetition of charm words.
“ Grow fast, grow fast to the bark of the
tree,” he whispered. Still the young man
moved slowly downward. Suddenly drop-
ping the arrow and standing erect, Iktomi
said aloud : “ Grow fast to the bark of the
tree!” Before the brave could leap from
the tree he became tight-grown to the
bark.
“Ah! ha!” laughed the bad Iktomi.
“ I have the magic arrow ! I have the
beaded buckskins of the great avenger ! ”
Hooting and dancing beneath the tree, he
said : “ I shall kill the red eagle ; I shall
wed the chieftain’s beautiful daughter ! ”
“ Oh, Iktomi, set me free ! ” begged the
tree-bound Dakota brave. But Iktomi’s
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Old Indian Legends
ears were like tlie fungus on a tree. He
did not hear with them.
Wearing the handsome buckskins and
carrying proudly the magic arrow in his
right hand, he started oh eastward. Imi-
tating the swaying strides of the avenger,
he walked away with a face turned slightly
skyward.
“ Oh, set me free ! I am glued to the
tree like its own bark ! Cut me loose ! ”
moaned the prisoner.
A young woman, carrying on her strong
back a bundle of tightly hound willow
sticks, passed near by the lonely teepee.
She heard the wailing man’s voice. She
paused to listen to the sad words. Looking
around she saw nowhere a human creature.
“It may be a spirit,” thought she.
“ Oh ! cut me loose ! set me free ! Ik-
tomi has played me false ! He has made
me bark of his tree ! ” cried the voice
again.
88
The Tree-Bound
The young woman dropped her pack of
firewood to the ground. With her stone
axe she hurried to the tree. There before
her astonished eyes clung a young brave
close to the tree.
Too shy for words, yet too kind-hearted
to leave the stranger tree-bound, she cut
loose the whole bark. Like an open jacket
she drew it to the ground. With it came
the young man also. Free once more, he
started away. Looking backward, a few
paces from the young woman, he waved
his hand, upward and downward, before
her face. This was a sign of gratitude
used when words failed to interpret strong
emotion.
When the bewildered woman reached
her dwelling, she mounted a pony and
rode swiftly across the rolling land. To
the camp ground in the east, to the chief-
tain troubled by the red eagle, she carried
her story.
89
SHOOTING OF THE BED EAGLE
91
SHOOTING OF THE RED EAGLE
A man in buckskins sat upon the top of
a little hillock. The setting sun shone
bright upon a strong bow in his hand.
His face was turned toward the round
camp ground at the foot of the hill. He
had walked a long journey hither. He
was waiting for the chieftain’s men to
spy him.
Soon four strong men ran forth from the
center wigwam toward the hillock, where
sat the man with the long bow.
“ He is the avenger come to shoot the
red eagle,” cried the runners to each
other as they bent forward swinging their
elbows together.
They reached the side of the stranger,
but he did not heed them. Proud and
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Old Indian Legends
silent lie gazed upon the cone-sliaped wig-
wams beneath him. Spreading a hand-
somely decorated buffalo robe before the
man, two of the warriors lifted him by
each shoulder and placed him gently on it.
Then the four men took, each, a corner
of the blanket and carried the stranger,
with long proud steps, toward the chieftain’s
teepee.
Ready to greet the stranger, the tall chief-
tain stood at the entrance way. “ How, you
are the avenger with the magic arrow ! ”
said he, extending to him a smooth soft
hand.
“ How, great chieftain ! ” replied the man,
holding long the chieftain’s hand. Enter-
ing the teepee, the chieftain motioned the
young man to the right side of the door-
way, while he sat down opposite him with
a center fire burning between them. Word-
less, like a bashful Indian maid, the avenger
ate in silence the food set before him on
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Shooting of the Red Ragle
the ground in front of his crossed shins.
When he had finished his meal he handed
the empty bowl to the chieftain’s wife,
saying, “ Mother-in-law, here is your dish!”
“Han, my son!” answered the woman,
taking the bowl.
With the magic arrow in his quiver the
stranger felt not in the least too presuming
in addressing the woman as his mother-
in-law.
Complaining of fatigue, he covered his
face with his blanket and soon within the
chieftain’s teepee he lay fast asleep.
“ The young man is not handsome after
all ! ” whispered the woman in her hus-
band’s ear.
“Ah, but after he has killed the red
%
eagle he will seem handsome enough!”
answered the chieftain.
That night the star men in their burial
procession in the sky reached the low
northern horizon, before the center fires
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Old Indian Legends
within the teepees had flickered out. The
ringing laughter which had floated up
through the smoke lapels was now hushed,
and only the distant howling of wolves
broke the quiet of the village. But the
lull between midnight and dawn was short
indeed. Very early the oval-shaped door-
flaps were thrust aside and many brown
faces peered out of the wigwams toward
the top of the highest bluff.
Now the sun rose up out of the east.
The red painted avenger stood ready within
the camp ground for the flying of the red
eagle. He appeared, that terrible bird !
He hovered over the round village as if
he could pounce down upon it and devour
the whole tribe.
When the first arrow shot up into the
sky the anxious watchers thrust a hand
quickly over their half-uttered “ liinnu ! ”
The second and the third arrows flew
upward but missed by a wide space the
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Shooting of the Red Eagle
red eagle soaring with lazy indifference
over the little man with the long bow.
All his arrows he spent in vain. “ Ah !
my blanket brushed my elbow and shifted
the course of my arrow ! ” said the stranger
as the people gathered around him.
During this happening, a woman on
horseback halted her pony at the chief-
tain’s teepee. It was no other than the
young woman who cut loose the tree-
bound captive !
While she told the story the chieftain
listened with downcast face. “ I passed
him on my way. He is near ! ” she ended.
Indignant at the bold impostor, the wrath-
ful eyes of the chieftain snapped fire like
red cinders in the night time. His lips
were closed. At length to the woman he
said : “ How, you have done me a good
deed.” Then with quick decision he gave
command to a fleet horseman to meet the
avenger. “ Clothe him in these my best
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Old Indian Legends
buckskins,” said he, pointing to a bundle
within the wigwam.
In the meanwhile strong men seized
Iktomi and dragged him by his long hair
to the hilltop. There upon a mock-pillared
grave they bound him hand and feet.
Grown-ups and children sneered and hooted
at Iktomi’ s disgrace. For a half-day he
lay there, the laughing-stock of the people.
Upon the arrival of the real avenger, Iktomi
was released and chased away beyond the
outer limits of the camp ground.
On the following morning at daybreak,
peeped the people out of half-open door-
flaps.
There again in the midst of the large
camp ground was a man in beaded buck-
skins. In his hand was a strong bow and
red-tipped arrow. Again the big red eagle
appeared on the edge of the bluff. He
plumed his feathers and flapped his huge
wings.
98
Shooting of the Red Eagle
The young man crouched low to the
ground. He placed the arrow on the bow,
drawing a poisoned flint for the eagle.
The bird rose into the air. He moved
his outspread wings one, two, three times
and lo ! the eagle tumbled from the great
height and fell heavily to the earth. An
arrow stuck in his breast ! He was dead !
So quick was the hand of the avenger,
so sure his sight, that no one had seen the
arrow fly from his long bent bow.
In awe and amazement the village was
dumb. And when the avenger, plucking
a red eagle feather, placed it in his black
hair, a loud shout of the people went up
to the sky. Then hither and thither ran
singing men and women making a great
feast for the avenger.
Thus he won the beautiful Indian princess
who never tired of telling to her children
the story of the big red eagle.
99
IKTOMI AND THE TUETLE
101
IKTOMI AND THE TURTLE
The huntsman Patkasa (turtle) stood
bent over a newly slain deer.
The red-tipped arrow he drew from the
wounded deer was unlike the arrows in his
own quiver. Another’s stray shot had
killed the deer. Patkasa had hunted all
the morning without so much as spying
an ordinary blackbird.
At last returning homeward, tired and
heavy-hearted that he had no meat for the
hungry mouths in his wigwam, he walked
slowly with downcast eyes. Kind ghosts
pitied the unhappy hunter and led him
to the newly slain deer, that his children
should not cry for food.
When- Patkasa stumbled upon the deer
in his path, he exclaimed : “ Good spirits
have pushed me hither ! ”
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Old Indian Legends
Thus he leaned long over the gift of the
friendly ghosts.
“ How, my friend ! ” said a voice behind
his ear, and a hand fell on his shoulder.
It was not a spirit this time. It was old
Iktomi.
“ How, Iktomi ! ” answered Patkasa, still
stooping over the deer.
“ My friend, you are a skilled hunter,”
began Iktomi, smiling a thin smile which
spread from one ear to the other.
Suddenly raising up his head Patkasa’ s
black eyes twinkled as he asked : “ Oh, you
really say so ? ”
“Yes, my friend, you are a skillful
fellow. Now let us have a little contest.
Let us see who can jump over the deer
without touching a hair on his hide,” sug-
gested Iktomi.
“ Oh, I fear I cannot do it ! ” cried
Patkasa, rubbing his funny, thick pahns
together.
104
C i
My friend, you are a skilled hunter”
■
■■ . . $ m ■ | 3B
.
.
.
Iktomi and the Turtle
u Have no coward’s doubt, Patkasa. I
say you are a skillful fellow who finds
nothing hard to do.” With these words
Iktomi led Patkasa a short distance away.
In little puffs Patkasa laughed uneasily.
“ Now, you may jump first,” said Iktomi.
Patkasa, with doubled fists, swung his
fat arms to and fro, all the while biting
hard his under lip.
Just before the run and leap Iktomi
put in : “ Let the winner have the deer
to eat ! ”
It was too late now to say no. Patkasa
was more afraid of being called a coward
than of losing the deer. a Ho-wo,” he
replied, still working his short arms. At
length he started off on the run. So quick
and small were his steps that he seemed
to be kicking the ground only. Then
the leap ! But Patkasa tripped upon a
stick and fell hard against the side of
the deer.
105
Old Indian Legends
“ He-he-he ! ” exclaimed Iktomi, pretend-
ing disappointment that liis friend had
fallen.
Lifting him to his feet, he said : “ Now it
is my turn to try the high jump ! ” Hardly
was the last word spoken than Iktomi gave
a leap high above the deer.
“ The game is mine ! " laughed he, pat-
ting the sullen Patkasa on the back. “My
friend, watch the deer while I go to bring
' o o
my children," said Iktomi, darting lightly
through the tall grass.
Patkasa was always ready to believe the
words of scheming people and to do the
little favors any one asked of him. How-
ever, on this occasion, he did not answer
“Yes, my friend." He realized that Iktomi’ s
flattering tongue had made him foolish.
He turned up his nose at Iktomi, now
almost out of sight, as much as to
say : “ Oh, no, Ikto ; I do not hear your
words ! "
106
Iktomi and the Turtle
Soon there came a murmur of voices.
The sound of laughter grew louder and
louder. All of a sudden it became hushed.
Old Iktomi led his young Iktomi brood to
the place where he had left the turtle, but
it was vacant. Nowhere was there any
sign of Patkasa or the deer. Then the
babes did howl!
“Be still!” said father Iktomi to his
children. “I know where Patkasa lives.
Follow me. I shall take you to the turtle’s
dwelling.” He ran along a narrow footpath
toward the creek near by. Close upon his
heels came his children with tear-streaked
faces.
“ There ! ” said Iktomi in a loud whisper
as he gathered his little ones on the bank.
“ There is Patkasa broiling venison ! There
is his teepee, and the savory fire is in his
front yard ! ”
The young Iktomis stretched their necks
and rolled their round black eyes like
107
Old Indian Legends
newly hatched birds. They peered into
the water.
“Now, I will cool Patkasa’s fire. I shall
bring yon the broiled venison. Watch
closely. When yon see the black coals rise
to the surface of the water, clap yonr
hands and shout aloud, for soon after that
sign I shall return to you with some tender
meat.”
Thus saying Iktomi plunged into the
creek. Splash ! splash ! the water leaped
upward into spray. Scarcely had it become
leveled and smooth than there bubbled up
many black spots. The creek was seething
with the dancing of round black things.
“ The cooled fire ! The coals ! ” laughed
the brood of Iktomis. Clapping together
their little hands, they chased one another
along the edge of the creek. They shouted
and hooted with great glee.
“Abas!” said a gruff voice across the
water. It w T as Patkasa. In a large willow
108
Iktomi and the Turtle
tree leaning far over the water he sat upon
a large limb. On the very same branch
was a bright burning fire over which
Patkasa broiled the venison. By this time
%J
the water was calm again. Xo more danced
those black spots on its surface, for they
were the toes of old Iktomi. He was
drowned.
The Iktomi children hurried away from
the creek, crying and calling for their
y j o o
water-dead father.
109
DANCE IN A BUFFALO SKULL
in
DANCE IN A BUFFALO SKULL
It was night upon the prairie. Over-
head the stars were twinkling bright their
red and yellow lights. The moon was
young. A silvery thread among the stars,
it soon drifted low beneath the horizon.
Upon the ground the land was pitchy
black. There are night people on the plain
who love the dark. Amid the black level
land they meet to frolic under the stars.
Then when their sharp ears hear any
strange footfalls nigh they scamper away
into the deep shadows of night. There
they are safely hid from all dangers, they
think.
Thus it was that one very black night,
afar oh from the edge of the level land, out
of the wooded river bottom glided forth two
113
1
Old Indian Legends
balls of fire. They came farther and far-
ther into the level land. They grew larger
and brighter. The dark hid the body of
the creature with those fiery eyes. They
came on and on, just over the tops of the
prairie grass. It might have been a wild-
cat prowling low on soft, stealthy feet.
Slowly but surely the terrible eyes drew
nearer and nearer to the heart of the level
land.
There in a huge old buffalo skull was a
gay feast and dance ! Tiny little field mice
were singing and dancing in a circle to the
boom-boom of a wee, wee drum. They
were laughing and talking among them-
selves while their chosen singers sang loud
a merry tune.
They built a small open fire within
the center of their queer dance house.
The light streamed out of the buffalo
skull through all the curious sockets and
holes.
114
Tiny field mice were singing and dancing in a circle
.
.
Dance in a Buffalo Skull
A light on the plain in the middle of the
night was an unusual thing. But so merry
were the mice they did not hear the “ kins,
kins ” of sleepy birds, disturbed by the
unaccustomed fire.
A pack of wolves, fearing to come nigh
this night fire, stood together a little dis-
tance away, and, turning their pointed noses
to the stars, howled and yelped most dis-
mally. Even the cry of the wolves was
unheeded by the mice within the lighted
buffalo skull.
They were feasting and dancing ; they
were singing and laughing — those funny
little furry fellows.
All the while across the dark from out
the low river bottom came that pair of
fiery eyes.
Now closer and more swift, now fiercer
and glaring, the eyes moved toward the
buffalo skull. All unconscious of those
fearful eyes, the happy mice nibbled at
115
Old Indian Legends
dried roots and venison. The singers had
started another song. The drummers beat
the time, turning their heads from side to
side in rhythm. In a ring around the tire
hopped the mice, each bouncing hard on his
two hind feet. Some carried their tails
over their arms, while others trailed them
proudly along.
Ah, very near are those round yellow
eyes ! Very low to the ground they seem
to creep — creep toward the buffalo skull.
All of a sudden they slide into the eye-
sockets of the old skull.
“ Spirit of the buffalo ! ” squeaked a
frightened mouse as he jumped out from
a hole in the back part of the skull.
“A cat! a cat!” cried other mice as
they scrambled out of holes both large and
snug. Noiseless they ran away into the
dark.
116
THE TOAD AND THE BOY
117
THE TOAD AND THE BOY
The water-fowls were flying over the
marshy lakes. It was now the hunting
season. Indian men, with bows and arrows,
were wading waist deep amid the wild rice.
Near by, within their wigwams, the wives
were roasting wild duck and making down
pillows.
In the largest teepee sat a young mother
wrapping red porcupine quills about the
long fringes of a buckskin cushion. Beside
her lay a black-eyed baby hoy cooing and
laughing. Reaching and kicking upward
with his tiny hands and feet, he played
with the dangling strings of his heavy-
beaded bonnet hanging empty on a tent
pole above him.
119
Old Indian Legends
At length the mother laid aside her red
quills and white sinew-threads. The babe
fell fast asleep. Leaning on one hand and
softly whispering a little lullaby, she threw
a light cover over her baby. It was ahnost
tune for the return of her husband.
Remembering there were no willow
sticks for the fire, she quickly girdled her
blanket tight about her waist, and with
a short-handled ax slipped through her
belt, she hurried away toward the wooded
ravine. She was strong and swung an
ax as skillfully as any man. Her loose
buckskin dress was made for such freedom.
Soon carrying easily a bundle of long
willows on her back, with a loop of rope
over both her shoulders, she came striding
homeward.
Near the entrance way she stooped low,
at once shifting the bundle to the right
and with both hands lifting the noose from
over her head. Having thus dropped the
120
The Toad and the Boy
wood to the ground, she disappeared into
her teepee. In a moment she came run-
ning out again, crying, “ My son ! My lit-
tle son is gone ! ’ ’ Her keen eyes swept
east and west and all around her. There
was nowhere any sign of the child.
Running with clinched fists to the near-
est teepees, she called : “ Has any one seen
my baby ? He is gone ! My little son is
gone ! ”
“ Hinnu ! Hinnu ! ’ ’ exclaimed the women,
rising to their feet and rushing out of their
wigwams.
“ W e have not seen your child ! What
has happened?” queried the women.
With great tears in her eyes the mother
told her story.
“We will search with you,” they said
to her as she started off.
They met the returning husbands, who
turned about and joined in the hunt for
the missing child. Along the shore of the
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Old Indian Legends
lakes, among the high-grown reeds, they
looked in vain. He was nowhere to he
found. After many days and nights the
search was given up. It was sad, indeed,
to hear the mother wailing aloud for her
little son.
It was growing late in the autumn. The
birds were flying high toward the south.
The teepees around the lakes were gone,
save one lonely dwelling.
Till the winter snow covered the ground
and ice covered the lakes, the wailing
woman’s voice was heard from that solitary
wigwam. From some far distance was also
the sound of the father’s voice singing a
sad song.
Thus ten summers and as many winters
have come and gone since the strange dis-
appearance of the little child. Every
autumn with the hunters came the un-
happy parents of the lost baby to search
again for him.
122
The Toad and the Boy
Toward the latter part of the tenth sea-
son when, one by one, the teepees were
folded and the families went away from
the lake region, the mother walked again
along the lake shore weeping. One even-
ing, across the lake from where the crying
woman stood, a pair of bright black eyes
peered at her through the tall reeds and
wild rice. A little wild boy stopped his
play among the tall grasses. His long,
loose hair hanging down his brown back
and shoulders was carelessly tossed from his
round face. He wore a loin cloth of woven
sweet grass. Crouching low to the marshy
ground, he listened to the wailing voice.
As the voice grew hoarse and only sobs
shook the slender figure of the woman, the
eyes of the wild boy grew dim and wet.
At length, when the moaning ceased, he
sprang to his feet and ran like a nymph
with swift 'outstretched toes. He rushed
into a small hut of reeds and grasses.
123
Old Indian Legends
“ Mother! Mother! Tell me what voice
it was I heard which pleased my ears,
but made my eyes grow wet!” said he,
breathless.
“Han, my son,” grunted a big, ugly toad.
“It was the voice of a weeping woman
you heard. My son, do not say you like it.
Do not tell me it brought tears to your
eyes. You have never heard me weep. I
can please your ear and break your heart.
Listen!” replied the great old toad.
Stepping outside, she stood by the en-
trance way. She was old and badly puffed
out. She had reared a large family of lit-
tle toads, but none of them had aroused her
love, nor ever grieved her. She had heard
the wailing human voice and marveled at
the throat which produced the strange
sound. Now, in her great desire to keep
the stolen boy awhile longer, she ventured
to cry as the Dakota woman does. In a
gruff, coarse voice she broke forth:
124
A little boy stopped his play among the grasses
The Toad and the Boy
“Hin-hin, doe-skin! Hin-hin, Ermine,
Ermine ! Hin-hin, red blanket, with white
border ! ”
Not knowing that the syllables of a
Dakota’s cry are the names of loved ones
gone, the ugly toad mother sought to please
the boy’s ear with the names of valuable
articles. Having shrieked in a torturing
voice and mouthed extravagant names, the
old toad rolled her tearless eyes with great
satisfaction. Hopping back into her dwell-
ing, she asked :
“My son, did my voice bring tears to
your eyes ? Did my words bring gladness
to your ears ? Do you not like my wailing
better ?”
“No, no!” pouted the boy with some
impatience. “ I want to hear the woman’s
voice ! Tell me, mother, why the human
voice stirs all my feelings!”
The toad mother said within her breast,
“ The human child has heard and seen his
125
Old Indian Legends
real mother. I cannot keep him longer, I
fear. Oh, no, I cannot give away the
pretty creature I have taught to call me
6 mother’ all these many winters.”
“ Mother,” went on the child voice, “tell
me one thing. Tell me why my little
brothers and sisters are all unlike me.”
The big, ugly toad, looking at her pudgy
children, said: “The eldest is always best.”
This reply quieted the hoy for a while.
Very closely watched the old toad mother
her stolen human son. When by chance he
started off alone, she shoved out one of her
own children after him, saying: “Do not
come back without your big brother.”
Thus the wild boy with the long, loose
hair sits every day on a marshy island hid
among the tall reeds. But he is not alone.
Always at his feet hops a little toad brother.
One day an Indian hunter, wading in the
deep waters, spied the boy. He had heard
of the baby stolen long ago.
126
The Toad and the Boy
“This is he!” murmured the hunter to
himself as he ran to his wigwam. “ I saw
among the tall reeds a black-haired hoy at
play! ” shouted he to the people.
At once the unhappy father and mother
cried out, “’Tis he, our boy!” Quickly
he led them to the lake. Peeping through
the wild rice, he pointed with unsteady
finger toward the boy playing all unawares.
“ ’T is he ! ’t is he ! ” cried the mother,
for she knew him.
In silence the hunter stood aside, while
the happy father and mother caressed their
baby boy grown tall.
127
IYA, THE CAMP-EATER
129
IYA, THE CAMP-EATER
From the tall grass came the voice of
a crying babe. The huntsmen who were
passing nigh heard and halted.
The tallest one among them hastened
toward the high grass with long, cautious
strides. He waded through the growth of
green with just a head above it all. Sud-
denly exclaiming “Hunhe!” he dropped
out of sight. In another instant he held
up in both his hands a tiny little baby,
wrapped in soft brown buckskins.
“ Oh ho, a wood-child ! ” cried the men,
for they were hunting along the wooded
river bottom where this babe was found.
While the hunters were questioning
whether or no they should carry it home,
the wee Indian baby kept up his little howl.
“ His voice is strong ! ” said one.
Old Indian Legend 6
u At times it sounds like an old man’s
voice ! ” whispered a superstitious fellow,
who feared some bad spirit hid in the small
child to cheat them by and by.
“ Let us take it to our wise chieftain,”
at length they said ; and the moment they
started toward the camp ground the strange
wood-child ceased to cry.
Beside the chieftain’s teepee waited the
hunters while the tall man entered with
the child.
“How! how!” nodded the kind-faced
chieftain, listening to the queer story.
Then rising, he took the infant in his
strong arms ; gently he laid the black-eyed
babe in his daughter’s lap. u This is to be
your little son ! ” said he, smiling.
“ Yes, father, ” she replied. Pleased with
the child, she smoothed the long black hair
fringing his round brown face.
“ Tell the people that I give a feast
and dance this day for the naming of
132
/
Iya , the Camp -Eater
my daughter s little son/’ bade the chief-
tain.
In the meanwhile among the men wait-
ing by the entrance way, one said in a low
voice : “I have heard that bad spirits come
as little children into a camp which they
mean to destroy.”
“ No ! no ! Let ns not he overcautious.
It would be cowardly to leave a baby in
the wild wood where prowl the hungry
wolves ! ” answered an elderly man.
The tall man now came out of the chief-
tain’s teepee. With a word he sent them
to their dwellings half running with joy.
“ A feast ! a dance for the naming of the
chieftain’s grandchild!” cried he in a loud
voice to the village people.
“What? what?” asked they in great
surprise, — holding a hand to the ear to
catch the words of the crier.
There was a momentary silence among
the people while they listened to the ringing
133
Old Indian Legends
voice of the man walking in the center
ground. Then broke forth a rippling, laugh-
ing babble among the cone-shaped teepees.
All were glad to hear of the chieftain’s grand-
son. They were happy to attend the feast
and dance for its naming. With excited
fingers they twisted their hair into glossy
braids and painted their cheeks with bright
red paint. To and fro hurried the women,
handsome in their gala-day dress. Men in
loose deerskins, with long tinkling metal
fringes, strode in small numbers toward the
center of the round camp ground.
Here underneath a temporary shade-
house of green leaves they were to dance
and feast. The children in deerskins and
paints, just like their elders, were jolly
little men and women. Beside their eager
parents they skipped along toward the
green dance house.
Here seated in a large circle, the people
were assembled, the proud chieftain rose
134
The proud chieftain rose with the little baby in his arms
<L
Iya , the Camp-Eater
with the little baby in his arms. The
noisy hum of voices was hushed. Not a
tinkling of a metal fringe broke the silence.
The crier came forward to greet the chief-
tain, then bent attentively over the small
babe, listening to the words of the chieftain.
When he paused the crier spoke aloud to
the people :
“ This woodland child is adopted by the
chieftain’s eldest daughter. His name is
Chaske. He wears the title of the eldest
son. In honor of Chaske the chieftain
gives this feast and dance ! These are the
words of him you see holding a baby in his
arms.”
“ Yes ! Yes ! Hinnu ! How ! ” came from
the circle. At once the drummers beat
softly and slowly their drum while the
chosen singers hummed together to find
the common pitch. The beat of the drum
grew louder and faster. The singers burst
forth in a lively tune. Then the drum-
Old Indian Legends
beats subsided and faintly marked the
rhyt hm of the singing. Here and there
bounced up men and women, both young
and old. They danced and sang with
merry light hearts. Then came the hour
of feasting.
Late into the night the air of the camp
ground was alive with the laughing voices
of women and the singing in unison of
young men. Within her father’s teepee sat
the chief tain’s daughter. Proud of her
little one, she watched over him asleep in
her lap.
Gradually a deep quiet stole over the
camp ground, as one by one the people fell
into pleasant dreams. Now all the village
was still. Alone sat the beautiful young
mother watching the babe in her lap,
asleep with a gaping little mouth. Amid
the quiet of the night, her ear heard the
far-off hum of many voices. The faint
sound of murmuring people was in the
136
Iya , the Camp-Eater
air. Upward she glanced at the smoke
hole of the wigwam and saw a bright star
peeping down upon her. “ Spirits in the
air above?” she wondered. Yet there was
no sign to tell her of their nearness. The
fine small sound of voices grew larger and
nearer.
“ Father ! rise ! I hear the coming of
some tribe. Hostile or friendly — I can-
not tell. Rise and see ! ” whispered the
young woman.
“ Yes, my daughter! ” answered the chief-
tain, springing to his feet.
Though asleep, his ear was ever alert.
Thus rushing out into the open, he listened
for strange sounds. With an eagle eye he
scanned the camp ground for some sign.
Returning he said : “ My daughter, I hear
nothing and see no sign of evil nigh.”
66 Oh ! the sound of many voices comes
up from the earth about me ! ” exclaimed
the young mother.
137
Old Indian Legends
Bending low over her babe she gave ear
to the ground. Horrified was she to find
the mysterious sound came out of the open
mouth of her sleeping child !
“ Why so unlike other babes ! ” she cried
within her heart as she slipped him gently
from her lap to the ground. “ Mother,
listen and tell me if this child is an evil
spirit come to destroy our camp ! ” she
whispered loud.
Placing an ear close to the open baby
mouth, the chieftain and his wife, each in
turn heard the voices of a great camp.
The singing of men and women, the beat-
ing of the drum, the rattling of deer-hoofs
strung like bells on . a string, these were
the sounds they heard.
“We must go away,” said the chieftain,
leading them into the night. Out in the
open he whispered to the frightened young
woman : “ Iya, the camp-eater, has come in
the guise of a babe. Had you gone to
138
Iya , the Camp-Eater
sleep, he would have jumped out into
his own shape and would have devoured
our camp. He is a giant with spind-
ling legs. He cannot fight, for he cannot
run. He is powerful only in the night
with his tricks. We are safe as soon as
day breaks.” Then moving closer to the
woman, he whispered : “ If he wakes now,
he will swallow the whole tribe with one
hideous gulp ! Come, we must flee with
our people.”
Thus creeping from teepee to teepee a
secret alarm signal was given. At mid-
night the teepees were gone and there was
left no sign of the village save heaps of
dead ashes. So quietly had the people
folded their wigwams and bundled their
tent poles that they slipped away unheard
by the sleeping Iya babe.
When the morning sun arose, the babe
awoke. Seeing himself deserted, he threw
off his baby form in a hot rage.
139
Old Indian Legends
Wearing his own ugly shape, his huge
body toppled to and fro, from side to side,
on a pair of thin legs far too small for their
burden. Though with every move he came
dangerously nigh to falling, he followed in
the trail of the fleeing people.
- 1 shall eat you in the sight of a noon-
day sun !-” cried Iya in his vain rage, when
he spied them encamped beyond a river.
By some unknown cunning he swam
the river and sought his way toward the
teepees.
“ Hin ! bin ! ” he grunted and growled.
With perspiration beading his brow he
strove to wiggle his slender legs beneath
his giant form.
- Ha ! ha ! ” laughed all the village people
to see Iya made foolish with anger. “ Such
spindle legs cannot stand to fight by day-
light ! ” shouted the brave ones who were
terror-struck the night before by the name
-Iya.”
140
Iya , the Crimp-Eater
Warriors with long knives rushed forth
and slew the camp-eater.
Lo ! there rose out of the giant a whole
Indian tribe : their camp ground, their tee-
pees in a large circle, and the people laugh-
ing and dancing.
“ We are glad to be free ! ” said these
strange people.
Thus Iya was killed ; and no more are the
camp grounds in danger of being swallowed
up in a single night time.
141
MANSTIN, THE RABBIT
143
I
.
MANSTIN, THE RABBIT
Manstin was an adventurous brave, but
very kind-hearted. Stamping a moccasined
foot as he drew on his buckskin leggins, he
said : “ Grandmother, beware of Iktomi !
Do not let him lure you into some cunning
trap. I am going to the North country on
a long hunt.”
With these words of caution to the
bent old rabbit grandmother with whom
he had lived since he was a tiny babe,
Manstin started oh toward the north.
He was scarce over the great high hills
when he heard the shrieking of a human
child.
“ Wan ! ” he ejaculated, pointing his long
ears toward the direction of the sound ;
“ Wan ! that is the work of cruel Double-
145
Old Indian Legends
Face. Shameless coward! he delights in
torturing helpless creatures ! ”
Muttering indistinct words, Manstin ran
up the last hill and lo ! in the ravine beyond
stood the terrible monster with a face in
front and one in the hack of his head !
This brown giant was without clothes
save for a wild-cat-skin about his loins.
With a wicked gleaming eye, he watched
the little black-haired baby he held in
his strong arm. In a laughing voice he
hummed an Indian mother’s lullaby,
• • • •
“ A-boo ! Aboo ! ” and at the same time
he switched the naked baby with a thorny
wild-rose bush.
Quickly Manstin jumped behind a large
sage bush on the brow of the hill. He
bent his bow and the sinewy string twanged.
Now an arrow stuck above the ear of
Double-Face. It was a poisoned arrow,
and the giant fell dead. Then Manstin
took the little brown baby and hurried
146
“ I am going to the North Country on a long hunt ”
Mans tin, the Rabbit
away from the ravine. Soon he came to
a teepee from whence loud wailing voices
broke. It was the teepee of the stolen
baby and the mourners were its heart-
broken parents.
When gallant Mans tin returned the child
to the eager arms of the mother there came
a sudden terror into the eyes of both the
Dakotas. They feared lest it was Double-
Face come in a new guise to torture them.
The rabbit understood their fear and
said: “I am Manstin, the kind-hearted, —
Manstin, the noted huntsman. I am your
friend. Do not fear.”
That night a strange thing happened.
While the father and mother slept, Manstin
took the wee baby. With his feet placed
gently yet firmly upon the tiny toes of the
little child, he drew upward by each small
hand the sleeping child till he was a full-
grown man. With a forefinger he traced
a slit in the upper lip ; and when on the
147
Old Indian Legends
morrow the man and woman awoke they
could not distinguish their own son from
Manstin, so much alike were the braves.
“ Henceforth we are friends, to help each
other,” said Manstin, shaking a right hand
in farewell. “The earth is our common
ear, to carry from its uttermost extremes
one’s slightest wish for the other ! ”
“Ho! Be it so!” answered the newly
made man.
Upon leaving his friend, Manstin hurried
away toward the North country whither he
was bound for a long hunt. Suddenly he
came upon the edge of a wide brook. His
alert eye caught sight of a rawhide rope
staked to the water’s brink, which led
away toward a small round hut in the dis-
tance. The ground was trodden into a
deep groove beneath the loosely drawn
rawhide rope.
“Hun-he!” exclaimed Manstin, bending
over the freshly made footprints in the
148
Manstin, the Rabbit
moist bank of the brook. “A man’s foot-
prints ! ” he said to himself. “ A blind man
lives in yonder lint ! This rope is his guide
by which he comes for his daily water!”
surmised Manstin, who knew all the pecul-
iar contrivances of the people. At once
his eyes became fixed upon the solitary
dwelling and hither he followed his curi-
osity, — a real blind man’s rope.
Quietly he lifted the door-flap and entered
in. An old toothless grandfather, blind and
shaky with age, sat upon the ground. He
was not deaf however. He heard the
entrance and felt the presence of some
stranger.
“ How, grandchild,” he mumbled, for he
was old enough to be grandparent to every
living thing, “ how ! I cannot see you.
Pray, speak your name ! ”
“ Grandfather, I am Manstin,” answered
the rabbit, all the while looking with
curious eyes about the wigwam.
149
Old Indian Legends
“ Grandfather, what is it so tightly packed
in all these buckskin bags placed against
the tent poles?” he asked.
a Mv grandchild, those are dried buffalo
meat and venison. These are magic bags
which never grow empty. I am blind and can-
not go on a hunt. Hence a kind Maker has
given me these magic bags of choicest foods/’
Then the old, bent man pulled at a rope
which lay by his right hand. “ This leads
me to the brook where I drink ! and this,”
said he, turning to the one on his left,
“ and this takes me into the forest, where
I feel about for dry sticks for my fire.”
“ Grandfather, I wish I lived in such sure
luxury ! I would lean back against a tent
pole, and with crossed feet I would smoke
sweet willow bark the rest of my days,”
sighed Manstin.
“ My grandchild, your eyes are your
luxury ! you would be unhappy without
them ! ” the old man replied.
150
Maris tin, the Rabbit
“ Grandfather, I would give you my two
eyes for your place ! ” cried Manstin.
“ How ! you have said it. Arise. Take
out your eyes and give them to me. Hence-
forth you are at home here in my stead."
At once Manstin took out both his eyes
and the old man put them on ! Eejoicing,
the old grandfather started away with his
young eyes while the blind rabbit filled his
dream pipe, leaning lazily against the tent
pole. For a short time it was a most
pleasant pastime to smoke willow bark
and to eat from the magic bags.
Manstin crrew thirsty, hut there was no
water in the small dwelling. Taking one
of the rawhide ropes he started toward the
brook to quench his thirst. He was young
and unwilling to trudge slowly in the old
man’s footpath. He was full of glee, for it
had been many long moons since he had
tasted such good food. Thus he skipped
confidently along jerking the old weather-
151
Old Indian Legends
eaten rawhide spasmodically till all of a
sudden it gave way and Manstin fell head-
long into the water.
“En ! En ! ” he grunted kicking frantic-
ally amid stream. All along the slippery
bank he vainly tried to climb, till at last he
chanced upon the old stake and the deeply
worn footpath. Exhausted and inwardly
disgusted with his mishaps, he crawled
more cautiously on all fours to his wig-
wam door. Dripping with his recent
plunge he sat with chattering teeth within
his unfired wigwam.
The sun had set and the night air was
chilly, but there was no fire-wood in the
dwelling. “ Hin ! ” murmured Manstin and
bravely tried the other rope. “I go for
some fire-wood!” he said, following the
rawhide rope which led into the forest.
Soon he stumbled upon thickly strewn
dry willow sticks. Eagerly with both
hands he gathered the wood into his out-
152
Mans tin, the Rabbit
spread blanket. Manstin was naturally an
energetic fellow.
When he had a large heap, he tied two
opposite ends of blanket together and lifted
the bundle of wood upon his back, but
alas ! he had unconsciously dropped the
end of the rope and now he was lost in
the wood!
“ Hin ! hin ! ” he groaned. Then paus-
ing a moment, he set his fan-like ears to
catch any sound of approaching footsteps.
There was none. Not even a night bird
twittered to help him out of his predica-
ment.
With a bold face, he made a start at
random.
He fell into some tangled wood where he
was held fast. Manstin let go his bundle
and began to lament having given away
his two eyes.
“ Friend, my friend, I have need of
you! The old oak tree grandfather has
153
Old Indian Legends
gone off with my eyes and I am lost in
the woods ! ” he cried with his lips close to
the earth.
Scarcely had he spoken when the sound
of voices was audible on the outer edge of
the forest. Nearer and louder grew the
voices — one was the clear flute tones of a
young brave and the other the tremulous
squeaks of an old grandfather.
It was Mans tin’s friend with the Earth
Ear and the old grandfather. u Here
Manstin, take back your eyes/’ said the
old man, u I knew you would not be con-
tent in my stead, but I wanted you to learn
your lesson. I have had pleasure seeing
with your eyes and trying your bow and
arrows, but since I am old and feeble I
much prefer my own teepee and my magic
bags ! ”
Thus talking the three returned to the
hut. The old grandfather crept into his
wigwam, which is often mistaken for a
154
Mans tin, the Rabbit
mere oak tree by little Indian girls and
boys.
Manstin, with his own bright eyes fitted
into his head again, went on happily to
hunt in the North country.
155
THE WARLIKE SEVEN
157
\
THE WARLIKE SEVEN
Oxce seven people went out to make
war, — the Ashes, the Fire, the Bladder,
the Grasshopper, the Dragon Fly, the Fish,
and the Turtle. As they were talking
excitedly, waving their fists in violent
gestures, a wind came and blew the Ashes
away. “Ho! ” cried the others, “he could
not fight, this one ! ”
The six went on running to make war
more quickly. They descended a deep
valley, the Fire going foremost until they
came to a river. The Fire said “Hsss —
tchu ! ” and was gone. “ Ho ! ” hooted the
others, “he could not fight, this one ! ”
Therefore the five went on the more
quickly to make war. They came to a
great wood. While they were going through
159
Old Indian Legends
it, the Bladder was heard to sneer and to
say, “ He ! you should rise above these,
brothers.” With these words he went up-
ward among the tree-tops ; and the thorn
apple pricked him. He fell through the
branches and was nothing ! “ You see
this!” said the four, “ this one could not
fight.”
Still the remaining warriors would not
turn back. The four went boldly on to make
war. The Grasshopper with his cousin, the
Dragon Fly, went foremost. They reached
a marshy place, and the mire was very
deep. As they waded through the mud,
the Grasshopper’s legs stuck, and he pulled
them ofi ! He crawled upon a log and
wept, “ You see me, brothers, I cannot go ! ”
The Dragon Fly went on, weeping for
his cousin. He would not be comforted,
for he loved his cousin dearly. The more
he grieved, the louder he cried, till his body
shook with great violence. He blew his
160
The Warlike Seven
red swollen nose with, a loud noise so that
his head came oh his slender neck, and he
was fallen upon the grass.
“You see how it is,” said the Fish, lash-
ing his tail impatiently, “ these people were
not warriors!” “Come!” he said, “let
us go on to make war.”
Thus the Fish and the Turtle came to a
large camp ground.
“ Ho ! ” exclaimed the people of this
round village of teepees, “ Who are these
little ones? What do they seek?”
Neither of the warriors carried weapons
with them, and their unimposing stature
misled the curious people.
The Fish was spokesman. With a pecul-
iar omission of syllables, he said : “ Shu . . .
hi pi ! ”
“Wan! what? what?” clamored eager
voices of men and women.
Again the Fish said : “ Shu . . . hi pi ! ”
Everywhere stood young and old with a
161
Old Indian Legends
palm to an ear. Still no one guessed what
the Fish had mumbled !
From the bewildered crowd witty old
Iktomi came forward. “ He, listen ! ” he
shouted, rubbing his mischievous palms
together, for where there was any trouble
brewing, he was always in the midst of it.
u This little strange man says, ‘ Zuya
unhipi ! We come to make war!’”
“Uun!” resented the people, suddenly
stricken glum. “ Let us kill the silly pair !
They can do nothing ! They do not know
the meaning of the phrase. Let us build a
fire and boil them both ! ”
“ If you put us on to boil,” said the
Fish, “ there will be trouble.”
u Ho ho ! ” laughed the village folk.
“ We shall see.”
And so they made a fire.
“ I have never been so angered ! ” said
the Fish. The Turtle in a whispered reply
said : a We shall die ! ”
162
He blew the water all over the people
f
<
■
V
The Warlike Seven
When a pair of strong hands lifted the
Fish over the sputtering water, he put his
mouth downward. “ Whssh ! ” he said.
He blew the water all over the people, so
that many were burned and could not see.
Screaming with pain, they ran away.
“ Oh, what shall we do with these dread-
ful ones ? ” they said.
Others exclaimed: “Let us carry them
to the lake of muddy water and drown
them ! ”
Instantly they ran with them. They
threw the Fish and the Turtle into the
lake. Toward the center of the large
lake the Turtle dived. There he peeped
up out of the water and, waving a hand
at the crowd, sang out, “This is where
I live!”
The Fish swam hither and thither with
such frolicsome darts that his back fin
made the water fly. “E han!” whooped
the Fish, “ this is where I live ! ”
163
Old Indian Legends
“Oh, what have we done!” said the
frightened people, “this will be our un-
doing.”
Then a wise chief said : “ Iya, the Eater,
shall come and swallow the lake ! ”
So one went running. He brought Iya,
the Eater; and Iya drank all day at the
lake till his belly was like the earth. Then
the Fish and the Turtle dived into the mud ;
and Iya said : “ They are not in me.” Hear-
ing this the people cried greatly.
Iktomi wading in the lake had been swal-
lowed like a gnat in the water. Within
the great Iya he was looking skyward. So
deep was the water in the Eater’s stomach
that the surface of the swallowed lake
almost touched the sky.
“I will go that way,” said Iktomi, look-
ing at the concave within arm’s reach.
He struck his knife upward in the Eater’s
stomach, and the water falling out drowned
those people of the village.
164
The Warlike Seven
Now when the great water fell into its
own bed, the Fish and the Turtle came to
the shore. They went home painted victors
and loud-voiced singers.
165
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